


The Beginning to Their End

by Lady_Melanthe



Series: Not That Kind of Buddy System [7]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Boypussy, Collars, Deepthroating, Dehumanization, Dirty Talk, Emotional Manipulation, Hardcore, Loneliness, M/M, Masturbation, Physical Abuse, Rope Bondage, Training, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:07:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24082579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Melanthe/pseuds/Lady_Melanthe
Summary: Brandon and Liam are reunited after months apart, but unresolved conflict and hardship put a strain on their relationship that may never be repaired.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: Not That Kind of Buddy System [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1014006
Comments: 10
Kudos: 45





	The Beginning to Their End

**Author's Note:**

> It's been about three months since Liam left John and Brandon behind. Since then, both boys have been through a lot. Some relationships get stronger through adversity, but theirs isn't looking too good. What will happen? Read to find out! Also, there was a bit of confusion in the last entry where Liam was talking to "Brandon". That was all just a hallucination brought on by trauma and drugs. The Brandon that arrives with John at the very end, and the Brandon in this work are the real kid. Sorry for not clarifying!
> 
> As always, I do NOT support anything that happens in this story. I do, however, want to thank everyone who has read to this point and have commented and gave kudos. They give me an extra kick of motivation when writing.

The apartment smelled of roasted chicken, seasonings, and oven baked dinner rolls. Brandon set John’s dinner on the table and took a step back. 

“I hope you like it,” the boy beamed. “It’s from the new cookbook you bought me.” He nervously chewed his lip as John took his first bite. John tasted each portion of the meal separately before humming thoughtfully to himself. 

He sighed and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “You seasoned it too much.”

Brandon frowned. “I’m sorry. I followed the recipe like in the book. I--”

“Obviously not, because it’s too damn much,” John snapped.

Brandon flinched. “I’m sorry.” He looked down at his bare feet. “I’ll do better next time.”

John’s features softened as the anger dissipated. “Look, it’s… it’s not that bad. I can still eat it. Besides, you’re still practicing.” John eyed Brandon’s nude form. 

He motioned for Brandon to sit on his lap. “I’m sorry for yelling, baby. Work has just been hard lately.” He nuzzled Brandon’s cheek and rubbed the boy’s thigh. 

“It’s okay,” Brandon stammered. His member started to harden from John’s attention. The man’s thumb was so close to the tip of his cock. It was maddening. 

“How about I give you a chance to redeem yourself?” John’s hand slid up to grip at the curve of Brandon’s leg where his thigh turned into a plump ass.

Brandon’s breathing turned shallow. He didn’t hesitate in sliding from John’s lap and onto the hardwood floor. His thin fingers made quick work of the man’s belt buckle and pants’ zipper to get to his thick throbbing cock. 

_“John’s so nice,”_ Brandon thought as he tugged at John’s member. _“I screwed up dinner again, but John is still giving me a chance to make things up to him.”_

The boy licked up and down the shaft to get it to full mast, teasing the tip with his fingers while he savored the acrid taste of cock. John groaned, low and raspy. He closed his eyes and breathed in deep, letting his boy please him. 

The pungent scent of John's cock made Brandon lightheaded. Eyes wide and needy, he slowly took John’s cock into his mouth, sliding its length down his trembling throat until his nose was pushed hard into dark pubic hair. Brandon held it there with shallow breaths. The feeling of having a heavy beautiful cock like John’s stuffed down his throat was like heaven. The weight of it, the taste, the feeling of that one pulsating blue vein pressed against his tongue as he drew in the manly stench of John’s pubes; it made Brandon cum right there on the floor. The boy’s throat shuddered around John’s cock, jaw locking up at its hinges as he resisted the urge to clench down. A blissful tear fell from Brandon's eyes. He saw stars.

John laughed. “That’s my perfect little slut,” he groaned with delight. He placed his hand atop of Brandon’s curls. “All my baby needs is a taste of my cock to get turned on, huh? You’re so sick.”

Brandon would have smiled if his swollen lips weren't stretched so wide. A light beamed in his eyes as he slid his hot mouth back up John’s cock. He focused on the head as he rolled the man’s heavy balls in his hands. His large brown eyes glanced up at John every so often, gauging how he was doing by the man’s expression. John grinned down at him, his green eyes dark, lustful and predatory, like a lion right before he took his prey. The look made Brandon shiver.

John’s phone began to ring, mixing with the wet smacking and slurps as Brandon suckled on the flushed head. John ignored it at first, but it kept ringing and ringing and ringing until he relented.

He held up a hand as he checked the caller ID, motioning for Brandon to stop while he answered the phone. “What is it, Aaron? I’m busy.”

There was a pause while the man listened to his friend. “Really? Are you sure it’s him? …interesting…” He glanced down at Brandon who kept his cock warm in his mouth like a good boy. “Wait—you can’t be serious… Oh, that’s hilarious. No, I’ll be there. Let me finish up with my boy and I’ll meet you there in about two hours.”

John hung up, grinning. Brandon drew back. “What’s so funny?”

John shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Hurry up and finish me off, baby. Aaron’s got a surprise for us.”

Brandon was confused and intrigued but John guided his head back to his cock and all was forgotten.

lXl

Brandon wondered where they were going but did not ask. John didn’t like him to ask questions. “Just do as you’re told,” John had told him in the past. So, Brandon stayed quiet in the passenger seat as they pulled onto the interstate. 

The twisting interstates continued to fascinate the boy. His small old town only had one main highway. Smaller streets zigzagged throughout the rest of the town, connecting to smaller roads which eventually would always lead to some narrow dirt road or dead end.

He and Liam used to ride back and forth along the road behind his house after school. Sometimes Brandon could convince Liam to dirty his bike on a ride down the dirt road to Mrs. Lang. In the warm seasons, if the boys helped her with weeding, Mrs. Lang would give them fruit from her trees. Liam loved her mangos. It was about the only way to get him outside and near dirt. 

Brandon looked out the window and frowned, these memories quickly becoming bitter.

lXl

“Wait here,” John said. “I’ll call you in a second.”

Brandon looked around. The scantily clothed women and drunks frightened him and reminded him too much of home. 

The stench in the air burned his lungs. The tinge of passing cigarette smoke stung his dry eyes. Now he _really_ wanted to know why they were there. 

He pinched his nose close without thinking as a woman stumbled by reeking of stale perfume and whiskey. She scowled at him and screamed and cursed, “What the hell’s your problem? You think you’re better than me?”

Brandon stepped back from her. “N—no,” he said, voice nasally as he kept his nose pinched. “I just—”

“Baby, come here!” John called out.

Brandon ran to meet him.

“What do you think, baby?” John asked as he entered the room.

“Think about what—” Brandon stopped short when he saw Liam. The boy was sitting on the stained green carpet, slouched against the double bed. He was alarmingly thin, and his sickly pale skin was damaged with dark bruises and covered in old and new semen. 

When Liam saw Brandon, he gasped, and his red rimmed watery blue eyes widened with shock.

John placed his hand on Brandon’s shoulder, causing him to tense. “Should we buy him?”

It was difficult for Brandon to look away from the cowering boy as he said, “Buy him? I don’t understand.”

“Apparently, little Liam here has been keeping Aaron company these past few days.”

When Brandon failed to know what that meant specifically, John frowned and clarified with, “Liam’s been living here, working as a prostitute under Aaron’s care.”

Brandon was stunned.

“Not just me,” Aaron cut in. “He’s been fucking a lot of guys around here. And it doesn’t matter what it’s for: drugs, money—hell, he fucked some stranger last week just because. I caught them as the fucker was finishing up. Didn’t give him shit afterwards, just left after a free fuck.”

The men laughed but all Brandon could do was gawk at Liam, the wires in his head not wanting to connect but doing so regardless.

“Aaron’s looking to get rid of him. So, what do you say, sweetheart? Should we buy him?” John started to rub Brandon’s shoulders as he spoke.

Brandon looked back to Liam, at his pleading eyes and his unsettling appearance.

“Well?”

He swallowed back the lump forming in his throat, looked up at John and forced a smile. “Whatever you want, sir.”

John grinned. “Good boy; just what I wanted to hear.” He leaned down and gave the boy a quick kiss on the cheek.

Aaron waved his hands in the air to get John’s attention. “So, what do you say? Are you going to take him off my hands?”

John eyed the boy who refused to meet his gaze, staring so intensely at Brandon, who, in turn, wouldn’t look back.

“Alright. I’ll take him off your hands.”

Aaron’s broad shoulders sagged with relief. “Oh thanks, man!” he cried.

John shrugged off the appreciation. “Don’t mention. I’ll wire the money to your account later.” He pulled out his cell phone. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a phone call to make.”

“Yeah, um, I should probably head home. It’s getting pretty late and soon my lady will start calling me.” Aaron gathered his belongings from the room. “Thanks for the sex, kid,” he winked at Liam before hurrying out. 

Liam’s expression pulled together with concern. “What makes you think I even want to come back?” he snapped though it came out an awful imitation of the spunk he once held. 

John chuckled. “You really think I care about what you want?” He gestured to Brandon. “Make sure he stays put while I call Liz.”

Brandon, lips pulled tight into an uncertain frown, nodded as John left. 

The door slammed shut. The latch bolt clicked. Brandon shifted onto one foot. His gaze danced around the carpet, memorizing stains to avoid looking at Liam He folded his arms one way, then another and shifted his weight onto his other foot. 

“Brandon.”

Brandon looked at the wallpaper. His stomach was being twisted into a hundred knots by anxiety. 

_“Why did John have to leave me with him?”_ Brandon pondered. _“Doesn’t he remember what happened the last time we were alone?”_

“Brandon?” Liam approached him with caution, one part because he couldn’t feel much of his legs after having them in the air for Aaron for hours, and one part because he was afraid of what would happen when he reached Brandon. 

Would he disappear again, just a hallucination like the rest? Spatting at him with hate before flickering from existence, leaving him alone again? 

Liam reached out for Brandon. The feeling of the boy’s bare arm shocked the blonde boy just as much as the feeling of Liam’s cold fingers on his skin startled Brandon. Both boys jumped back, eyes wide, shaken. 

“It’s really you,” Liam whispered. His voice was raspy and thin, something entirely foreign to Brandon, who was used to Liam’s boisterous confident tone. Tears whelmed up in Liam’s eyes, one falling down his cheek. “It’s really you. You’re really here.”

Brandon shrunk back from him. “What?”

Liam’s body trembled as he sputtered and sobbed. “I’m sorry,” he cried. “I’m so sorry, Brandon.” He fell on his knees. “You were right; we should’ve stayed together.”

Liam wept into his hands. His bony shoulders quaked. “I'm _so_ sorry. Don't hate me! Please don't hate me, Brandon. Don't let me die alone”

Brandon was bewildered. “What are you talking about? I-- I never said that! What are you-- You’re freaking me out.” 

“I’m so sorry, Brandon! Don’t leave me again!”

There was a pause in the air. 

“L-- Leave _you_ again?” Brandon spoke the words slowly, in disbelief for their meaning. 

He shoved Liam away when he tried to hold onto him. “I didn’t leave you,” he growled. “ _You_ left _me_! I tried to help you get out of those stupid chains and you fucking _left me_.”

Brandon’s face began to turn red as he yelled, “Do you know what I went through? Do you know what he did to me because I tried to help you?” His voice broke. "Did you even think about me?" he asked, voice breaking, "Did you even try to go back home or was that just bullshit? 

Liam stammered, trying to find his voice but unable to.

Brandon shook his head in disgust, tears threatening to spill over. "You jerk. You fucking asshole. You kept saying all that shit about not wanting to be with John but you'll let these assholes fuck you? Go to hell, Liam! You don't deserve John and you don't deserve to come home with us!" 

He went for the motel door. Just as his hand touched the metal doorknob, the door swung open. 

John arched as brow as he looked between the two red faced, teary eyed boys. “What the hell happened here?” The slight amusement in his voice was undeniable. 

lXl

“This is where you’ll be sleeping,” John said. He threw a sleeping bag onto the laundry room floor. “I’ll get some cheap ass mattress later,” he continued. “Or would you rather have a nice doggie bed? You know, since you’re already everyone’s bitch.”

John’s roaring laughter bounced off the white room walls and bounded down the hallway. Liam was flushed more with embarrassment than anger. He looked past John to Brandon for support but found none as the boy only looked away, his own anger plain on his face. 

John motioned for Liam to hold out his arms. “You remember these, don’t you?” he said as he hooked the familiar handcuffs around Liam’s wrists. They felt heavier than before around Liam’s lanky wrists. 

“You’ll be locked in here while I’m gone and while I’m asleep. Other than that, you will eat what I tell you to eat when I tell you to eat, and you will be allowed to use the bathroom and shower _only_ when I let you, got it?” 

This time, when Liam tried to look at Brandon, John purposely blocked his path. He gripped Liam’s face hard enough to make the boy wince. He instinctively tried to pull away but that only made John hold onto him tighter. 

“Don’t look at him,” John growled. “He’s not going to help you. Not again. Brandon is mine now. He does whatever the hell I tell him to, and you better learn to do the same, otherwise, I will not hesitate to throw your pathetic ass back into the gutter.”

He released Liam, shoving him back in the process. “Lizette will be here the day after tomorrow. You’ll be tested for any diseases by a specialist she plans on bringing with her. Any training she suggests for you will be followed through or, once again, the gutter.”

The light was switched off and the door was shut and locked, sealing Liam alone in the dark. 

John got under the covers of his bed. Brandon stood nearby, staring at the room door. 

“Come to bed, baby,” John ordered. 

Brandon removed his clothes and slipped in next to John, cuddling up against the man’s muscular frame. 

John idly played with his curls. “Don’t think about him.”

Brandon sighed and rubbed his cheek against John’s sculpted pecs. “I’m trying,” he replied. “It’s just… I can’t believe what he’s been doing all this time. I thought he was home.”

“He’s just selfish, baby,” John claimed. 

“But he seemed so desperate to get back home. I thought he--” 

John interrupted Brandon, tilting the boy’s chin to make him look into his eyes. “Liam corrupted your love for me so he could feed his addiction. It’s just what people like him do. Don’t waste your time thinking about him.”

Brandon became glum. Memories of their friendship, all the sleepovers they had and the games they played flooded his mind, slowly becoming corrupted with the belief that Liam never genuinely cared. 

John wiped away a tear. “Don’t cry, baby, you still have me and all that's all you need.” He kissed Brandon until they were both breathless. “Remember, Brandon,” he whispered against his lips. “No one will ever love you like I do.”

Brandon snuggled up closer. “I know.”

lXl

John let Liam use the bathroom before he left for work. He was given a packet of cookies and a bottle of water before being put back into the laundry room. 

“Be thankful,” John said before slamming the door shut, though both boys knew this generosity was for the man’s own gain. 

“Don’t worry about him for the day. Focus on your work.” John instructed as he locked the door. A lock on the outside of a laundry room door; this wasn’t overlooked by Brandon, who wondered just how many boys like Liam have been locked away in the past. 

“I’ll be back after work,” John said. Brandon popped up on his toes to kiss him. 

“Have a good day,” the boy said with a weary smile. 

John left, taking the only key with him. Brandon immediately went to work cleaning after he left, washing the dishes and pans used for breakfast and scrubbing the counters and stove top. He tried hard not to think about Liam. He tried hard not to think about him alone in that room or even if he was well, though the memory of Liam’s hauntingly gaunt appearance stalked the corners of his thoughts. 

Liam was silent throughout the day. Alarmingly so, to the point that Brandon wanted to check on him. However, both his disdain of Liam’s betrayal and the presence of John’s cameras throughout the apartment stopped him. And so, Brandon returned to cleaning and re-cleaning, as he tried desperately to distract himself from any Liam related thoughts. 

By the time John returned home from work in the later evening, the apartment was cleaner than it had ever been. The place would’ve sparkled if it could for all the effort Brandon had put in. 

Brandon greeted John at the front door as always. He kissed John firmly on the lips and took his suitcase and jacket. 

“How was your day?” he asked. “Was it stressful?”

John loosened his tie. “Every day is stressful, baby, but it wasn’t too bad.”

The man nodded down the hall. “Did he give you any trouble?”

Brandon never understood questions like that from John. Questions like “what did you do today?” or “how did this happen?” seemed irrelevant considering the cameras. 

Brandon shook his head. “I haven’t heard him all day.”

John gave a thoughtful hum and started off down the hall. 

He unlocked the small room. The light switch was flipped with a click, revealing Liam. The boy was curled up on top of the sleeping bag. His back was to the door. The food and water left by the door was untouched. 

“Hey.” John nudged him with his foot, but Liam didn’t move. “ _Hey_ , get up.”

Another nudge, bordering on a kick, and the boy finally stirred. He groaned and whined, and it appeared a great effort for him just to turn over. Liam’s eyes were red and his nose and cheeks a similar color. He sat up with another low whine and rubbed his forehead. 

“What’s going on with you?” 

Liam squinted up at John, his eyes still adjusting to the light. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t feel well.” He was sweating with minute tremors.

John rolled his eyes and sighed. “Of course, you don’t,” he jeered. He unlocked the handcuffs and told Liam he had an hour of freedom before he was to be chained back up. Brandon smiled at this. In his mind, this wasn’t cruelty; it was generosity. Generosity that only his beloved John was capable of. Liam didn’t see it that way, however. To him, John was sick and awful to do this to anyone, especially a child. But worse, Liam believed, was Brandon smiling at the act. 

When he first saw Brandon in the motel room, Liam, for the first time in a long time, had hope. But now, as he watched Brandon and John merrily eating dinner like the fake loving couple they were, he felt sicker than ever. Liam looked from their delicious looking noodles down to his haphazard turkey sandwich, quickly thrown together by Brandon before he hurried off to jump on John’s lap. 

John kissed Brandon’s cheek and peppered more down to his neck. Brandon giggled and they resumed feeding one another like characters in a sappy Disney movie. The sight made Liam’s stomach churn and suddenly he wasn’t hungry anymore. 

A quick shower, a chance to use the toilet and Liam was put back in the laundry room where he stayed for the rest of night. Liam tried his best to get comfortable, but nothing he tried worked. 

It was hours later when sleep finally started to consume him. His eyelids were becoming heavy and he snuggled his head deeper into the sleeping bag. His mind started to lull, the stress from the day fading into the recesses of his mind--

Brandon’s screams startled him awake. Liam jumped up. His eyes searched the darkness as his exhausted mind desperately tried to process what was happening. 

Another heart startling scream. Brandon sobbed into the grey bed sheets. His breath came out in stuttering gasps, his lungs burning for air as his throat was scraped raw from screaming at the top of his lungs. 

“Oh! Oh, yes!” he cried. Thick blue ropes knotted across his chest in a box tie position, held the dark-skinned boy’s arms behind his back, while his spread thighs were bent back by a frogtie position. The arrangement hurt tremendously and there was no doubt in either John or Brandon’s mind that the latter was going to be sore tomorrow, but with a searing thick cock bruising his cunt, who cared?

The bed quaked. The sharp sound of skin slapping against skin; hips slapping against a bouncing rounded ass, filled the bedroom and filtered through the laundry room door. The noises melted with Brandon’s pleas for more and of John’s breathless growls. 

“That’s it, baby,” John purred. “Throw that ass back on my cock. Show me what this pussy’s good for.”

“For you,” Brandon wanted to say. “My pussy is only good for you to destroy and spear open and paint with your cum like the whore I am for you.” He wanted to say this and more but a sharp jab into his prostate sent a lightning strike through his brain, one that cut through and obliterated all rational thought. 

The high-pitched keen that gurgled up from his throat was animalistic at best. The babble that spilled out was nonsensical, just sobbing wanton drivel that may have translated to “please wreck my worthless pussy more” or something similar if he could properly think. 

Brandon’s toes curled. His hips bounced and rocked and jerked on John’s cock as the man jack hammered into his boypussy. His bound thighs trembled against his restraints as he came with a pathetic whimper.

His back arched almost impossibly so. Brandon’s voice broke as he attempted to scream, and his entire body gave way to orgasmic spasms that nearly ruined him. His eyes rolled up into his skull before squeezing tight against the pure bliss of absolute submission. John snarled and pressed his feet into the mattress as leverage to thrust deeper, harder, into the clenched hole, pounding so hard Brandon felt it in every bone.

Liam groaned. He tried to cover his ears, but the moaning still reached him. The one thing he hated more than the thought of John and Brandon together was his hardening erection from the sounds of their fucking. 

He tried to ignore it, but then he heard Brandon cum again and gave into his urge. His chains clattered in the dark as he jerked himself off. Liam bit into his lip to keep quiet and wiped any tears away against his sleeping bag. Chains, soft squelching from his own cock and the sound of a bed creaking in rhythm to Brandon’s mewling was the symphony that accompanied his shame. 

When Liam came, it was to the sound of Brandon begging for more. He gave muffled groan as he pushed his face into the sleeping bag fabric. Then, silence. Liam never hated silence more than when it intensified his shame. 

lXl

Lizette came the next day, later in the afternoon, once John was home for work. She brought a man with her, who spoke little, and who avoided direct contact with everyone. Lizette introduced him as a doctor who would check Liam for any possible ailments and diseases. 

The man did everything from checking Liam’s blood pressure to checking his ears, all with medical instruments he kept in a zipped up black bag. He was quick and kept to task as he listened to Liam’s breathing and heartbeat. Meanwhile, Lizette and John talked in hushed tones in the kitchen. Brandon's attention flickered back and forth between these two events. That is, until Liam collapsed. 

The doctor had just finished taking blood from Liam. He’d untied the tourniquet and was applying gauze and a band-aid to the mark when Liam muttered something about feeling sick. Then, immediately after, he turned paler than he’d ever been, his eyes rolled back into his head, and he slumped out of his chair. There was a heavy thud followed by a gasp. 

“Liam?” Brandon ran to his side. He shook him and felt his forehead. “He’s cold,” he said to the gathering adults. John shared a look with Lizette. 

The doctor moved Brandon aside and checked Liam over. “He could be anemic or something of the sort,” he diagnosed. “Boy,” he gestured to Brandon, “Get him some juice and something like crackers or applesauce, maybe even Jell-O.”

Brandon hurried off and returned with applesauce and a glass of orange juice. Liam was sat up and fanned, checked regularly by the doctor, until he groaned and slowly woke up.

The doctor handed him the food and instructed him to eat, ignoring Liam’s claims of not feeling up to it. 

John sighed and shook his head. “Damn kid. He’s starting to be more trouble than he’s worth.”

“You can always sell him,” Lizette offered. 

John shrugged. “Maybe. I’m seriously considering it.”

lXl

Turns out, after a week of waiting for results, that Liam had iron deficiency as well as low blood pressure. John wasn’t concerned about that though, focusing solely on if he was diseased from his time on the streets. Thankfully-- miraculously-- he wasn’t. 

Now, John said, it was time for training. Brandon felt sick at the word “training”. He flashed back to his own training; to hours spent in that closet, his cock trapped flaccid in a cage while vibrators and dildos were shoved up his cunt, and to the beatings dealt to him when he stepped out of line. But he didn’t say anything as John undid Liam’s handcuffs and led him into his bedroom. 

It was a Saturday morning and Brandon had been “given the day off” while John focused his attention on Liam. He was in the living room watching TV when he heard the bedroom door close. He didn’t have to hear the click to know the door had been locked.

John sat in the armchair in the corner of his room. He had Liam sit on the floor in front of him. “Well, here we are again,” John smiled. 

Liam kept his eyes cast to the floor. 

“There will be some rules here; rules that you better follow unless you want me selling you for profit.” He grabbed the boy, fingers digging painfully into his cheeks, and forced him to look up at him. “Rule one is you _will_ look at me when I speak to you. No more of this sullen pretentious bullshit. Rule two is you will refer to me as Master. Failure to do so will get you hit, got it?”

“But Brandon calls you John.”

“You’re not Brandon,” John stated. “Let me explain this in a way even you can understand; there is a hierarchy in this house. I am at the top, Brandon is beneath me, and you are at the very _very_ bottom. You’re so low that I could get a goddamn cat and it would matter more than you, and I fucking hate those things.

“The only reason you’re here is to satisfy me in _all_ my twisted desires. I don’t care if you’re uncomfortable with what I tell you to do or if it fucking hurts, you _will_ do it. You can consider that rule three.”

Rule four was “swallow whatever John put in your mouth”.

Rule five was “you have sex with _anyone_ I tell you to and no one else”. John heavily implied he intended to have Liam “entertain” any future guests. Liam hated how he became aroused at the prospect of being used by a multitude of John’s acquaintances, most likely at the same time. 

Rule six was no clothes within the apartment. It was a similar rule that Brandon had to follow, so was rule seven’s “always be prepared” dildo policy. 

John’s other rules centered around keeping the boys a secret. He, like Brandon, wasn’t allowed to answer the door. He wasn’t allowed to use the telephone or the computer. He wasn’t even allowed outside on the patio unless given permission. 

Just when Liam thought he couldn’t be more insulted, John presented him with a collar. It was black with a black box attached to the front. 

John grabbed Liam before he could get away. “This goes with this,” John held up a small white box. “This box will be placed by the front door, while this collar will be locked around your neck. If you get within five feet of the door, you will get one hell of a shock. Understand?”

“I’m not a dog--”

John struck him. The hit was hard enough to knock Liam to the ground and make him taste blood. 

“You’re whatever the hell I say you are, Liam. I fucking own you whether you like it or not.” John latched the shock collar around the boy’s neck and sat back in his chair. 

“Now,” he unzipped his pants and pulled out his manhood. “Get on my cock. Let’s see if this cunt of yours is worth its reputation.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally going to be longer, but I cut it in half. There's a lot going on from here on out and I didn't want things to become overburdened. 
> 
> I'm actually really anxious about how folks will respond to the next entry. Hm, what can I say about it... A lot of things will change, that's for sure, but also, does anyone remember who told Liam he looked a lot like his mom a while back? Anyone? I have a feeling that person is going to be important.
> 
> Anyway, have a nice day/night and thanks for reading.
> 
> (Side note: frogtie and box tie are BDSM rope positions)


End file.
